The Darkest Hour – written by Michelle Downey

This heart-breaking and harrowing poem is about domestic violence. It was written by Michelle Downey and was sent into VIEWdigital for our latest issue on Domestic Abuse. Copyright belongs to Patricia Downey

Michelle Downey

The Darkest House – by Michelle Downey

Not in death, but just in sleep, the fateful prophecy you’ll keep, and from this slumber you shall wake, when true loves kiss, the spell shall break

Guilty of flashes of conceit and recklessness his mind spirals into the wildest cryptic moods. The moment he knows I’m really hurt he rushes to my side to bind up his wounds.

He plays out his sensitivity and uses his gentlemanly charms to instantly bring out my femininity, I can see his immaturity and how it brings out his nasty negative fiery side, yet somehow he has managed to convince me he has a courageous mind.

He doesn’t sacrifice his deception, has no time for reflection, you see he enjoys the tension. His high degree of dishonesty and rage I dare not mention. He emotionally pulls us apart, and when the sun finally sets, it’s time for the dark.

Then comes the physical demonstration of his affection, his actions quickly turn into sinister intentions. I feel the huge shadow of his masculinity, the ecstasy of his love soon turns into something close akin to agony. You see I failed to comply with his demands and after his angry words of accusation he lifted his hands, he created and imagined incidents of disloyalty telling me I committed infidelity. He knows it’s not true, he just enjoys leaving me black and blue. Everything that happens never makes any sense, with every bruise I accepted it was never meant, he used to be psyched that he had me in his life, he became so psyched that night he held me to the ground with a knife, telling me that this time he was going to take my life.

He took all my money and smashed up my phone making sure I had no way of contacting home. He didn’t want my family seeing his nasty wounds because he knew once they found out his life would be doomed. This male had me beaten physically and emotionally groomed!

He pulls me on the ground and kicks me in the face, he laughs as I’m screaming ‘someone help me get out of this place’ my head is so sore and swollen but yet I always stand tall, bruised arms and shoulders from when he pushed me against the wall. He made me face him awaiting him to pounce, like a wild hungry beast hunting a little mouse, I try to fight back and push him away, and he smirks at me cruelly like I’m provoking him to play.

I’m on the bed and he has his hands around my throat, I’m losing consciousness, heads spinning like a capsizing boat. I lay there lifeless; I don’t want to breathe, feeling that death is near makes me relieved. He makes me wish he would take my life, it doesn’t scare me anymore that he has that knife; I fantasise how to kill him with it as he holds my hair tight.

He’s reached for the pillow and is smothering my face, his angry hot temper I can bitterly taste. I stop myself from screaming and he lets me gasp for air, he rants on about a Facebook message, some fella complimented my hair. He laughs at me and teases me to run only if I dare, of course I make my move and in a flash of a second he’s pulled and gripped and ripped out my hair. You deserve this, he shouts. Fair is fair.

I scream hysterically and he punches me in the face, lifts the TV and starts trashing the place, the door is barricaded and I’m locked in, I’m imagining my body being identified by my next of kin.

Black eyes, strangle marks, bruises all over my body. Once he snaps out of it he forces me to accept his apology. He allows me to shower and I wash away all the shame somehow he has managed to convince me that I am to blame.

I’m living this life with the fear of being wrong, His thunder comes at me like a raging cannonball. I never fight back because he’s always too strong.

Terror runs through me every night, destroyed and embarrassed I don’t put up a fight. I accept that he abuses me……. “It’s alright”………

Not in death, but just in sleep, the fateful prophecy I’ll keep, and from this slumber I shall wake, when true loves kiss, the spell shall break

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